Throw a chicken in the air, stick a deckchair up your nose…

“Why would I do that?” asked Martha, in a hushed and somewhat fearful tone. “Because if you don’t, I’ll fuck you six ways from Sunday!” responded Victor.

This then is the story of our constitution, arranged in chronological order. There is no reason for this to be analysed as any kind of food product other than that of it’s base constituants and assosiated offspring.

John has 3 bags of sweets. Dave has six bags. How many bags does Ranjit have? Fucking hundreds, fool, Ranjit owns the shop. And let that be a lesson to you.

Casual racism asside, there are important messages that you should take away from this experience here today. Always eat your veg, milk, cookies, and vitamins. Always say your prayers, and most importantly, never let Hulk Hogan move you to Monday Nights.

What? It’s not like anybody actually reads this stuff is it?